against him； in an instant。
〃Don't ever do that again！〃 he muttered and； as suddenly as he'd seized
her； let her go。 He took long steps toward the door before stopping
short。
Anne was stunned； short of breath； wondering what was ing next。
One lithe stride brought him back。 To her astonishment he framed her
face with his hands； placed a hard kiss on her lips； then walked off
again。
〃What was that for？〃 she cried。
〃Moist eggs and strong black coffee。〃 He half…turned at the door。 〃I
have a couple of things to do。 Find something to keep you busy for an
hour； then we'll leave for the village。〃
It wasn't a question； and he didn't wait for an answer。 That was what
kept Anne busy while she unpacked her bags in the attic bedroom。 She
brooded。 She agonized。 She wondered why she had e and why she ever
wanted his kiss。 Mitch whoever…he…was was stubborn and selfcentered。 He
was the exact opposite of gentle； caring； generous…to…a…fault Jeff。
But Jeff was dead。
An art teacher had once told her that a painting was successful when it
evoked a reaction； be it positive or negative。 For Anne； the months
since Jeff's death had been devoid of reaction； until Mitch。
So where did she go from there？ Into bed with the man at the very first
chance？
Unsettled by that thought； she exchanged her city skirt for a sweater
and jeans； grabbed her heavy parka； and ran down the stairs。 She needed
fresh air and a long walk。
She barely got out the back door when she spotted Mitch in the yard
splitting logs for the fire。 Bundled in a sheepskin jacket with its
collar raised； he didn't see her。 Time and again he raised the ax and
struck； time and again splitting each new log with a single sweep of the
blade； and all with his right arm。 She wondered how the left had been
injured。 It was none of her business。 Still she wondered。
She joined him in the yard and sat quietly on a pile of logs while he
finished his work； then as quietly helped carry the wood into the house
and stack it by the fireplace。 Shortly after that； they left for the
village。
In the confines of the car； he was more imposing than ever。 His hands
were strong on the wheel； his thigh strong when he braked。 In profile；
his hair was a thick silver…blond； his eyes alert； his nose； lips； and
chin classically chiseled。 Everything about him spoke of mand； of a
man with a mind of his own。 But she knew that already。
They bought food。 They drove home。 They did fine right through dinner；
sticking to general topics like politics； the economy； and the oning
winter in the mountains。 They disagreed on some things； but could listen
to the other's point of view。
They didn't run into trouble until the last of the peach melba
disappeared。 Then he asked； 〃Why did you decide to e up here this
time； Anne？〃
It was inevitable that the talk would turn personal on some level； and
she had nothing to hide。 〃I realized that you were right。 The holidays
are closing in。 I'm hoping to take home a little extra strength。 They'll
be tough。〃
His voice iss him a lot？〃
〃Yes。 It isn't as bad as it was。 I can accept that he's gone now。 I'm
used to waking up without him。 The people around me are having more
trouble。 They're sometimes so solicitous it'd make you sick。
Thanksgiving's apt to be one long let's…cheer…up…Anne ordeal。〃
Mitch blew out a breath。 〃Oh； boy。 I know what you mean there。〃
〃How so？〃 she asked； not letting it go this time。 〃Are you married？〃
Lips pursed； he studied his hands。 〃No。〃
〃Have you ever been married？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃Are you divorced？〃
〃No。〃
〃Separated？〃
〃No。〃
There was only one other possibility。 It made sense on many different
levels。
〃My wife died；〃 he said； looking at her now。
Anne saw the pain in his eyes。 〃I'm sorry。 You must have loved her very
much。〃
&（l did。〃
〃How did she die？〃
His jaw clenched； and anger joined the pain。 She was wondering if the
anger was directed at her； when he grew mellow again。 〃I'd rather not go
into it。 That'd be getting more personal than we planned。〃
〃But it helps to talk sometimes。 Doesn't it？ I mean； if you're angry…〃
〃Who's angry？〃
〃I thought I saw…〃
〃What about your anger？ I've heard it； you know。 Do you talk about it？〃
He pushed his chair back but didn't rise。 Both hands clutched the edge
of the table。 〃You don't know what I'm feeling。 You don't know anything
about me； about my work； my responsibilities。 How can you be so
sanctimonious？〃
She recoiled。 〃Sanctimonious？ I was just trying to help。 After what I
went through not so long ago； I may be feeling some of what you are； and
yes； I may want to talk about it。 I may want a little help； myself。〃
The confession startled her。 She was wondering where it had e from；
when Mitch sat back and asked quietly； 〃How did Jeff die？〃
She glanced around the room； but there was no avoiding the issue。 So she
studied her wedding band。 〃He was in an accident。〃
〃I know that。 But what kind？ Were you with him？〃
She shook her head。 〃No。〃
〃Tell me。〃
〃He was on a business trip。 The plane went down。〃
In the silence that followed； she raised her eyes。 Mitch looked pale。
〃When did it happen？〃 he asked。
〃Last January。〃 He flinched。 It was a while before he said； 〃It's been
nearly a year。 Do you date at all？〃
〃No。〃
〃You should。〃
〃Now look who's being sanctimonious。 When did your wife die？〃
〃Last winter。〃 He held her gaze。
〃Do you date？〃 It was a foolish question。 She knew it the minute she saw
the wry twist of his mouth。
〃I'm not sure you'd call it dating。 When I want a woman； I get one。〃 He
took a breath； paused on the verge of saying more； then dropped it。 〃At
any rate； I have other obligations。〃
〃Female…related obligations？〃
He watched her closely。 〃Yes。〃
〃see。〃
〃No； I doubt you do。 But maybe that's better for now。〃
She didn't know what he meant； but she wasn't asking。 She had too much
pride。 Besides； questions weren't part of the deal。 If she hadn't asked
that last one； she wouldn't be feeling suddenly low。
Mitch stirred。 〃Do me a favor？〃 His eyes were softer。 〃Take those pins
out of your hair and put a red ribbon in it。〃
〃I don't have a red ribbon。〃
〃Anything bright will do。〃
〃Am I that depressing to be with？〃
He left his seat then and circled the table。 〃No； Annie。 I've never
found you depressing。〃 He began removing the hairpins and didn't stop
until he had her hair spread over her shoulders。 Then he hunkered down
so that he was closer to eye level。 〃But I think you overdo the
starkness。 You don't have to punish yourself for your husband's death。
Losing him is ample punishment all by itself。〃
She had to hand it to him。 He was perceptive enough； but she assumed
that he spoke from experience。 So what was his punishment？ His arm？
Those other obligations he mentioned？
But he didn't appear to be thinking of other obligations just then。 He
was fingering her hair； seeming entranced by its sheen。 〃You look so
pretty with your hair down； Anne。〃
When his eyes rose； her stomach flipped over。 They could talk all they
wanted about not being ready for this； but when they were close； it just
happened。 His eyes fell to her lips。 He rubbed them with a thumb； then
leaned forward and touched them with his tongue。 The tip of his tongue。
'tracing her mouth from corner to corner with devastating leisure。
Anne liked what he did。 She closed her eyes and sighed； enjoying each
small touch for the pleasure it brought。 When she began to tremble； she
clutched Mitch's shoulders。 They were made for that； for clutching。 They
were large； solid； and warm。
But part of being pleasured was pleasuring back。 It was instinctive； and
no hardship at all； because she was hungry。 What he did satisfied her
for only a short time。 She moved her mouth and found more； moved her
tongue and found even more； and above it all were the throaty sounds
Mitch made； telling her that he was getting hotter。
When he murmured； 〃Christ；〃 there was awe in his tone。 Incredibly；
though； he backed up。 He sat down hard on the floor； draped his forearms
over bent knees； and his forehead on his wrists。 〃Christ； 〃 he
whispered； then raised his head。 His eyes were filled with amusement and
sex。
It was a minute before the sex part faded。 Then he threw back his head；
dragged in a long breath； and hauled himself to his feel。 From a safe
distance； he said； 〃About your hair。 You'll need to wear something red
or orange if you're going to hike with me tomorrow morning。 It's
deer…hunting season。〃
They spent the better part of the next morning in the woods。 It was
cold； but Mitch kept her moving； leading her over trails she had never
explored； through gullies she had never seen。 A red wool cap kept her
head warm； mittens warmed her hands。
With the trees bare of leaves； vistas were open as they hadn't been in
September。 Mitch led her from hilltop to hilltop； one view more
far…reaching than the next。 The land was quiet。 Forest creatures were
hidden away。 The doe that had stood on her hind legs to chomp on a crisp
apple now hid from the hunter。 Chipmunks and squirrels were burrowed in
their dens。 There was the rustle of evergreen boughs in the wind； the
icy gurgle of the brook as it charged downstream； the crunch of their
boots on the near…frozen ground。
Anne's cheeks were as red as her cap when they returned； tired but
exhilarated； and it was a harbinger of the days ahead。 They settled into
the fort of easy panionship； sharing not only meals； but most
every other time of the day。 Mitch read when Anne did； his eye
occasionally catching hers。 They played backgammon in front of the fire；
and worked together on a jigsaw puzzle。 The weather held； offering
pleasant days with clear skies； and an invigorating chill to the night。
They walked together and worked together； Anne on her translating； Mitch
on papers dug from an overstuffed briefcase。 They lived in the here and
now； avoiding talk of the city like the plague。
All too soon； Anne loaded up her car for the return trip to New York。
Slinging an arm across her shoulder； Mitch walked her from the house a
final time。 The silence had been heavier that morning than at any other
point in the